type | original character, thomas...a pic made for a certain design that turned into its own picture instead.

I didn't know what category to put it in...to me, it doesn't really look like a drawing or a painting/airbrushing. So I just stuck it in Miscellaneous...and I don't know if it's in the right subcategory. It's not all that macabre. If you guys know of a better category to put this in, inform me, please! n_n

The torso was referenced from a Jo Chen picture but everything is my own. If I'd known I were going to do this picture I'd probably have filled in everything, but the fact that it's a silhouette makes me much happier than I think I would've been if I had done so. So I'm glad this one hit me from out of nowhere...it was just making things up as I went along. ^^

The symbol at the bottom left is Tom's symbol...an updated version of the original. Which you've probably never seen, but I just felt like I needed to say so anyway, hehe. A variant of it (or the same, I don't know) is supposed to be tattooed onto his lower back.

Even though I initially had no idea what I was doing, later on in the game, I was inspired by something I'd written a while back in school. (If you read it, some of it might not make sense; feel free to ask questions. And I know it's really bad writing! XD) It's from his perspective and something that really defines who he is, kind of like the things he thinks every morning when he wakes....

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I am an anathema.

Never meant to live; why then am I still here? Why then have I lived for six thousand years? It must be another one of those mornings, those mornings I wake up pondering the meaning—the purpose—of life. Does anyone truly know the answer? Will anyone ever know? I’m sure mere mortals must understand the meaning more than us Eternals. For after all, they live only a span of moments. Of course a creature coming face-to-face with Death each and every day would understand far more than any immortal, such as I, would.

We never die, although it is a possibility. So we can die. I should die. I am—was—Death in a way, this bloody inkblot upon the white wings of my fellow “angels”, my fellow Eternals. Shunned, regarded as nothing but a vile curse. Born of demonic seed, with jet wings and porcelain-fair skin; clear eyes that see through any veil; alert ears that hear every lie spoken; cursed symbol marked upon my forehead at birth by the ones deemed to protect me, raise me.

Strange macabre dreams flow into my dark sleep like the silent emptying of freshly slashed wrists. When will they ever stop? When will my ink-silk wings wash pure as snow?

Never.

I know it to be true. Never will I be as my brothers; never will I be as all the other Eternals. Just a bloodstained angel, never meant to walk in the light....

I think once more of the mortals all around me, of their fragile lives, blown away as gossamer feathers in the celestial breeze. They do know the meaning of life.

They only live to die.

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thomas andersen/azra'èl; artwork; excerpt © *xylael